Voices
by MaddoxTheInvincible
Summary: Craig Tucker has gone insane. And those voices are going to convince him somehow. Oneshot. Rated M for scary stuff. Character death.


**I wrote this as a little side story in a notebook today. It's really, really scary. I almost scared myself writing it. You have been warned. Well, have fun!  
-M**

_Just one twitch._

_One twitch of the arm and you'll find your way out. _

_Listen to us, Craig. Listen to the voices in your head. _

Craig's face was contorted and twisted. The cold sweat that lay on his brow did nothing to help the sharp pain that bounced around in his skull.

_Do it, Craig. _

_Let us go._

Craig shook his head, balling up his fists. He grinned emptily. He had missed that feeling, being able to control his hands. Back in that padded cell, they were covered by plush cubes and cuffs- innocent-looking to the naked eye, but the rusty metal hidden under the softness rubbed his wrists raw. Craig stared at the scars the cuffs left behind, a parting gift. The scars told a story, in a way. _His_ story. In staring into the permanently damaged flesh, Craig remembered. He remembered _everything_.

*Flashback*

"Wh-What are you doing!?...Craig?"

Craig remembered the look in the other boy's wide eyes as he pressed their lips together. They were a motley crew of emotions. Fear, remorse, want, hunger-love.

_Do it, Craig,_ the voices hissed.

Craig shivered in anticipation.

The schizophrenic boy smirked. "Goodbye, Tweek." he murmured innocently.

The blond's face was pleading as he pulled Craig in for another kiss. They moved in harmony, until their lungs screamed for oxygen.

_It's such a shame that Tweek won't get any, will he?_

Craig smiled widely, but he felt all but happy.

"Craig, I love yo-" the sane one said before Craig dragged the metal against his neck. Crimson bloomed over pale skin and Craig felt his own crawl in a mixture of shame and contentment.

_It's so beautiful, _the voices whispered. Craig had to agree-Tweek _was_ beautiful, sinking down to his knees, his before fearful eyes now cold and lifeless. The red was seeping down the dead boy's front, accumulating in a puddle on the ground. Craig watched as he fell from his knees down onto the cold earth, face-first. Slowly, he got down onto his knees and and lifted Tweek's dead face up to his. Craig looked at it without interest, then tilted Tweek's head back to look at the killing wound he had inflicted upon his lover. The gash was deep and wide, the blood around it was a brilliant red that didn't even seem real. Craig looked at the blood, wide-eyed like a young child. He leaned in and flicked out his tongue, running it along the gash, the salty, coppery taste filling his senses to the brim. He giggled and broke away after a while, stole one last glance at the body, laughed again, and walked away.

*End Flashback*

The boy looked into the mirror of the grimy gas station bathroom, the fluorescent light made his pale skin a sickly shade of yellow-green. His eyes were dull and sunken in, surrounded by dark purple due to his inablility to sleep. His hands shook, their surface dry and cracked.

Craig didn't see any of that in the mirror.

What he saw was completely different. He saw a monster with twisted, ugly features that stared back at him menacingly. He saw an untamed animal, with sharp yellow teeth that had saliva dripping from them.

_Do it. One little slice. Do it, and you'll never hear us again..._

Craig felt his eyes widen.

_Do it, and you'll be with him._

His gaze shifted from the mirror to the weapon in his hands. He flicked it open.

_One cut, and you will finally be at ease. No one will have to deal with you anymore. It'll be less work for them. _

Craig ran his fingers along the blade, feeling the familiar metal.

_They'll be so happy to see you go. They all hate seeing you. _

The boy frowned, trying to silence the voices that caused his incurable insanity.

_If you leave, they'll be so happy. Make them happy, Craig. Make us happy._

The demons inside him were pushing him too far. Craig clenched his teeth.

_Don't put down the knife. Don't be selfish, Craig. You don't want them to be depressed._

His hands shook. His head pounded.

_Do everyone a favor and END IT! END IT ALL!_

Craig snapped, letting out a scream. With the knife in one hand, Craig threw his fist against the already-cracked mirror. The pieces shattered to the cement floor around him. Craig fell, too, sobbing and laughing at the same time, his madness overwhelming him. He looked at the knife, noticing the dark crimson staining the side of the blade. That was it. The only part of Tweek he had left.

Craig licked his fingers and wiped off the stain.

"That's better." he murmured, bringing the blade to his wrist.

_Yes, that's a good boy._

**T.**

_Keep going._

**W.**

_End it! End it ALL!_

**E.**

_Let us take over your mind! Your soul!_

**E.**

_Let us take you over..._

**K.**

****Craig looked at his arm, satisfied. The sick smirk on his face grew.

_LET US TAKE YOU OVER! END IT, CRAIG! END YOUR LIFE!_

He obliged.

xXx

Mr. Carson frowned, looking up from his _Sports Illustrated_ when he heard laughter coming from the bathroom. He had remembered seeing a teenage boy walk in. The kid looked sick, like he had the flu or something. He had shrugged it off and let him use the bathroom. Carson wasn't exactly the most caring, attentive man out there. Nonetheless, he grabbed his keys and went to see what was going on.

As he approached, the laughter continued. It didn't sound very happy- it was hollow, empty. Damn those kids. No one was going to do drugs in _his_ gas station, he thought.

Just as that crossed his mind, the laughter stopped abruptly. Mr. Carson knit his brow in confusion as he unlocked the door.

The scene in front of him was horrifying.

The black-haired boy he saw earlier lay on the ground, surrounded by shards of glass. The pieces on the mirror were red with the blood that had dripped out of the kid's neck. The sea of crimson was growing around him. Mr. Carson gawked, not knowing what to do. The boy's eyes were wide open and glazed over, silver pools on nothingness. His mouth was twisted into an insane grin. The icing on the cake, though, was the word etched into his arm.

_Tweek._

Mr. Carson recognized the name. It was the first name of the twitchy boy that went missing months ago.

He hadn't returned.

Beside the lifeless boy was a knife. It's blade was stained, and so was the worn wooden handle. Mr. Carson picked u the weapon, still wet with blood. He washed the thing in the sink. So what if it was a little used? Mr. Carson wouldn't resist a perfectly good knife. As for the body, well...

He'd let the day guy get that.

**FIN**

**Tadaa! Not really my best work, I know. I was bored and decided to write a quickie. Tell me what you think. :D**


End file.
